


Christmas Eve

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [47]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Alone together at Christmas, Developing Friendship, Everyone needs cheering up, Ianto knows more than he should, Jack missed the Doctor again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:41:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Jack and Ianto are working most of the Christmas holiday together.  Ianto takes Jack home for dinner to cheer him up when he misses the Doctor again, and they have a quiet celebration together.





	Christmas Eve

Ianto volunteered to work with Jack on Christmas Eve so the others could take the day off. Jack would work Christmas on his own, and Ianto would return to help him on Boxing Day. The others were to cover over New Year’s Eve, as Jack could not bear to be in the hub during that holiday. He had not shared why that was, but he suspected that Ianto knew.

Christmas Eve was a quiet day, so Ianto spent time finishing his plan for updating and organizing the archives and Jack caught up on paperwork and participated in calls to UNIT. Christmas in London always promised adventure, so Jack always helped UNIT try to plan for whatever contingency might arise.

That evening, Jack and Ianto watched helpless as what appeared to be a Christmas star attacked London. UNIT destroyed the ship, and they later found out that the temporary draining of the Thames was the work of the Doctor in thwarting the threat.

Having missed an opportunity to see the Doctor again, Jack was in a bit of a mood, after that. Ianto had him set up remote rift activity alerts and dragged him home for a meal and a movie, as a distraction. When they arrived at Ianto’s flat, they were surprised to find a small Christmas tree set up on a table near the window.

“Christmas elves?” Jack quipped.

“Apparently,” Ianto muttered. “Never give your mates a key to your flat.”

“C’mon. It’s nice.”

“It is,” Ianto admitted. “I was just…” he sighed.

“Trying not to remind yourself?”

“Yeah.”

Jack nodded. This was what Ianto had meant when he said his friends didn’t understand. In this case, their effort to cheer him up only served to remind him that this Christmas wasn’t like the last. Ianto had intimated that the previous holiday had been a happy one, so he had wanted to let this one pass with as little acknowledgement as possible, to allow himself the space to mourn.

“Looks like they left gifts,” Jack poked at the bags of candy and treats under the tree.

“I’m being ungrateful again,” Ianto groaned, looking even more defeated.

“You’re really not,” Jack assured him. “But maybe if you’d explained.”

Ianto nodded. “You’re right. They’re not mind-readers.” 

“What’s with the bumblebee motif, though?”

Ianto took a good look at the tree, which was a lovely three-foot blue spruce decked out with yellow and black ornaments. He gave a small smile. They’d gone with his house colors rather than trying to guess what his taste would dictate or recreate something he’d had with Lisa. “My house colors, at school.”

“Safe choice,” Jack nodded his approval. He walked over to the table and, much to Ianto’s surprise, pulled a package out of his coat pocket and placed it with the other gifts already lying under the tree. At Ianto’s look, he shrugged.

Ianto gave himself a shake, and they headed to the kitchen. A grin broke out on his face. “Okay, amend that to _always_ give your mates a key to your flat.”

On his stove was a covered platter of roasted chicken and ham. In the refrigerator were roasted potatoes and vegetables. Jack hummed his approval and turned the oven on as Ianto prepared everything to go in, to be warmed.

There was even a bottle of wine, chilled and ready to be served, in the refrigerator. Jack pulled glasses from the cabinet, and watched, only a bit surprised, as Ianto set the bottle on the bench and walked out of the kitchen. He sighed and reached for the bottle, opening it and pouring. He set the table, and as he was pulling the food from the oven, Ianto rejoined him.

“Sorry about that,” he said quietly. 

Jack handed him a glass and ignored the red-rimmed eyes. “Food’s ready,” he said, smiling gently. 

Ianto nodded. He tried to pack away the raw ache and focused on enjoying the food and company. He was grateful for both, because there had been a very strong chance of a bottle of whisky being the only thing consumed that evening, and he knew it would be better to face Christmas brunch with his sister and her family without a hangover.

He and Jack actually had an enjoyable evening, retiring in front of the fire with mugs of coffee laced heavily with rum, ginger syrup, and cinnamon. Jack was making indecent noises again, and Ianto smiled. It was a secret pleasure to find new ways to elicit such sounds from his friend.

“It tastes like gingerbread,” Jack grinned.

“Good, because that’s what they left, for dessert,” Ianto replied with a gentle smile.

“Maybe in a bit,” Jack said, patting his belly appreciatively. “Your friends are good cooks.”

Ianto nodded, smiling. “I’m lucky to have people who care,” he said quietly. “Lost track of that, for a while.”

Jack nodded, not wanting to remember that he was likely one of the reasons that Ianto became so isolated.

Ianto gave him a knowing look. “Stop. You’re one of the only reasons I didn’t completely lose my mind.”

Jack shook his head. “Through no effort of my own, I assure you.” He sighed. “I should have noticed.”

Ianto shrugged. “You weren’t meant to. That’s on me.” He leaned back and sipped his coffee. “This is probably the last thing you want to hear, but your friendship was the only reason I was able to take care of her.” He looked at Jack, his eyes pleading. “It was real.”

Jack smiled at Ianto. “I know. I believe you. But that’s why it hurt.”

“I know.”

“And it’s also why I was able to forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he replied quietly. “As I said, I’m a lucky man.”

Jack looked up at the carriage clock on the mantle as it struck midnight. “Happy Christmas, Mr. Jones.”

Ianto gave him a lopsided smile. “Happy Christmas, Captain Harkness.”

“I think you should open your present.”

“We did office Christmas at yesterday’s party. You didn’t have to get me anything, Sir.” At Jack’s look, he amended, “Jack.”

“I know.” Jack snorted a laugh. “Secret Santa. Whose idea was that, again?”

“Not mine,” Ianto huffed. “It was Gwen’s.”

“Figures.”

Ianto nodded. “Bloody ‘heart of Torchwood’, strikes again.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, you’re going to have to explain it, now.”

Ianto shrugged. “Just she really seems to believe that we none of us remember how to be human, after all we’ve seen.”

Jack groaned.

“So she feels the need to remind us,” he continued. “But it’s more like she’s rubbing our faces in the fact that we don’t have ‘normal lives’,” he air quoted, “like she does. Rhys this, and Rhys that, while she flirts her arse off with you.”

“Me?” Jack had noticed the behavior that went along with the “forgotten what it is to be human” comment, but he had just brushed it off. But clearly it was bothering Ianto. He resolved to check in with Owen and Toshiko, as well.

“And the Christmas thing,” Ianto took a breath, then a sip of his coffee. “It’s not important,” he shut down his rant, having already said too much. Then he huffed. “Don’t listen to me, I’m just bitter, I suppose.”

“You certainly have every right to be, but you’re really not,” Jack said softly. “But what bugged you about the Christmas thing?”

“I asked, you know,” Ianto stared at the fire. “Toshiko assured me that Torchwood Three didn’t make a big fuss over the holiday. It was a relief, really, to know that even if I have to deal with the world, and my friends, that there were two places – the hub and my flat – where I’d be able to… _breathe_.”

“I’m sorry for not thinking that through,” Jack said, regretting – and not for the first time – giving in to Gwen’s demands for Christmas decorations and a celebratory lunch, complete with gifts.

Ianto shrugged. “It’s fine. Clearly, the universe wanted…” he trailed off, waving vaguely towards the tree behind them.

Jack grimaced. “So who do you think drew your name?”

Ianto chuckled. “Gwen.”

“Was it decent coffee, at least?”

“It’s a good choice, for when UNIT visits.”

Jack snorted. That would be a no, then.

“But it was a thoughtful effort,” Ianto added. “It takes a while to develop an eye for the right beans.”

Jack nodded, appreciating the kindness of Ianto’s acknowledgement. “I think it must have been Toshiko who gave me the waistcoat and braces.”

Ianto smiled. “That would make sense. If it’d been Owen, there would have been something rude on them.”

Jack laughed. “You’re right. So that means you got Toshiko that tea set.”

Ianto nodded. He’d found the set, quite by accident. It was a lovely Japanese ceremonial tea set, with delicate cherry blossoms hand-painted onto the white porcelain. “I got lucky with that. I take it you gave Owen the bottle of brandy?”

“I did,” Jack nodded. “I can’t decide who came off worse, though. You, or Gwen.”

Ianto laughed. “Who knows? Maybe she and Rhys will have some fun, with her gift.”

Rebelling against the whole enforced Christmas celebration as only he could, Owen had given Gwen a box of sex toys. She had been mortified. He hadn’t been able to keep a straight face, so everyone instantly knew who had given the gift.

“Another coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Jack handed Ianto his mug.

When Ianto returned with coffee and gingerbread, Jack’s gift was sitting on the ottoman before them. Ianto set down their coffees and excused himself. He went to the spare bedroom and grabbed the plain brown envelope sitting on his desk. He quickly grabbed a bow from the wrapping things that were out for gifts for the following day and put it on the envelope, grimacing at how half-arsed the effort looked.

He returned to the living room and took his seat. “Who first?” he asked, a small smile at Jack’s surprised look. “I was going to bring it in on Boxing Day,” he explained.

Jack grabbed the envelope, looking like an excited kid. As he opened it, Ianto reached out and took it from him. “I think I should explain,” he said, feeling nervous. At Jack’s questioning look, he said, “You know, you did a really good job of removing references to yourself from T1’s archives.”

Jack sat back, his face turning serious. Ianto took the lack of denial as confirmation, and forged ahead. “But Yvonne had her own secure files.” He looked at Jack, then away. “She knew very little about you, but there were two items of speculation.”

Jack crossed his arms defensively. “And you know this because?”

Ianto shrugged. “I was curious what was in the files.”

“And she just let you in?”

“Well, ‘let’ might be a liberal way of looking at it.”

Jack began laughing. “Oh, you have balls, I’ll give you that. You broke in to her personal files? Because you were _curious_?”

A mischievous look sparked for a fraction of a second in Ianto’s eyes, and a small smile graced his lips. “I’ve been told that curiosity, combined with issues with authority, can make me a right pain in the arse.”

Jack continued to laugh, the tension broken. If Ianto hadn’t used whatever it was he’d found against him by now, he figured it was either nothing to what was in the files, or nothing too dangerous. “All right. Tell me what you found out.” He grinned, but there was an edge to it. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you just told me something rather important about yourself, as well.”

Ianto shrugged again. “She was convinced that you had some kind of tech to expedite healing,” he said, “but I think you just have some sort of advanced healing factor.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I do your laundry, Jack.”

Jack had no reply to this, so he held his peace.

Ianto decided no reply was forthcoming, nor was it necessary, and he appreciated Jack not trying to lie. “And she suspected that you were once one of the Doctor’s companions.”

Jack flinched slightly as Ianto drew a five by seven photo from the folder and placed it face-down on top of the envelope, handing it to Jack. Taped to the back of the photo was a grainy CCTV capture of the TARDIS, with the Doctor, Rose, and himself standing in front. It was a terrible picture, and he was half-turned from the camera, so it would have been difficult for anyone to identify him. But he inwardly cursed, because he thought he’d disabled all CCTV in the area that day, when he locked everyone in the hub to avoid crossing paths with his younger self.

“There was a pizzeria on the far corner of the Plass,” Ianto explained, once again prompting Jack to check his psychic shielding. “That’s why the picture quality sucks.”

“This could be anyone,” Jack said.

Ianto nodded. “True. And you were in a locked down hub, when that was captured.” He smiled and sat back, picking up his coffee. “But I have it on good authority that the police box in the background is a time machine, so…”

“So she had a suspicion that she couldn’t prove,” Jack sat back and shrugged. “Must’ve been frustrating.”

“Oh, that’s not something she would have confided in me,” Ianto smiled. “But I do like to think it kept her up, at night.”

Jack chuckled. “No love lost, eh?” He was surprised it had never come up, before.

“She was the very worst of us,” Ianto said quietly. “And we all suffered for doing nothing, in the face of her hubris.”

“What could you have done?” Jack asked gently.

“What wouldn’t I do, to take that all back?” Ianto replied. He looked at Jack, his expression fierce. “If I had a blue police box, I’d happily contemplate murder.”

Jack believed him. In that moment, he knew that Ianto was capable of killing. But cold-blooded murder? He wasn’t so sure. But would he see ending Yvonne before she began, as that? A sort of pre-emptive form of self-defense, more like. It brought to mind something Ianto had said, about having blood on his hands, but he did not believe this was the moment to ask about it.

“Well. What’s done can’t always be undone,” he said.

Ianto nodded. “Fixed point, I suppose.” 

Jack tried to hide his surprise. It was quickly becoming a habit, where Ianto was concerned. “Some might say,” he replied. Then he frowned. “Good authority… You saw the TARDIS that day, didn’t you?”

Ianto nodded. He was staring into the fire again, his eyes distant. Then he smiled. Jack’s breath caught, because it was one of the most beautiful, unguarded expressions he’d ever seen from Ianto. “She sings,” he said.

“You heard her?” Jack asked, shocked. That was a rare thing. Even Rose hadn’t been able to hear her, and he only did, when she wanted him to. He belatedly realized that he’d just given himself away, but Ianto didn’t seem terribly surprised.

The younger man nodded. Then he gave himself a shake, bringing himself back to the present. “Anyway, when Gwen started banging on about Christmas, I decided I needed to think about presents.” He looked at Jack, who had returned to his coffee. “I knew the date that was taken, see,” he pointed to the CCTV image, “So I decided to scrub through everything in the city center, that day.”

Jack blinked. “That would have been a lot of footage.”

“It was,” Ianto nodded. “But I also used Tosh’s facial recognition software. Found this,” he leaned forward and turned the photo over. It was another CCTV image, taken through the window of one of the restaurants along the Plass. Unlike the other, this one had been cleaned up and carefully edited to show each person in near photo-quality detail. 

Four people sat at a table. Jack, in a blue t-shirt, was obviously in full storytelling flow, with an exuberant Rose listening animatedly, a laughing Mickey Smith also enjoying the tale, and a smiling man with large ears and piercing eyes laughing along.

With shaking fingers, Jack traced the outline of Rose’s face. He looked up at Ianto, tears in his eyes. “How did you know to go looking for this?”

“I didn’t. I was looking for anything, really. Some image of Rose, or the Doctor. But this was the best of any that I found. But,” he pointed to the envelope, “everything I found is on the jump drive.”

“This,” Jack gave a small sniff. “Thank you, Ianto.”

“So what’s his name, really?” Ianto tried to lighten the moment by pointing out Mickey. “I knew him as Samuel, though I suspected when I first met him that he wasn’t all that he seemed.”

Jack had seen footage of Mickey during the battle, but knew no details. He told Ianto what he did know about Mickey. Ianto, in turn, told Jack what he had found out – that Mickey had been fighting the Cybermen in an alternate universe, and had followed them across the void.

“Wow,” Jack shook his head.

“Far as I know, he made it back home,” Ianto said.

Jack smiled. “Thanks for that. And this,” he looked at the photo again, spellbound.

Well, not really. Ianto was banned from using his wand, after all.

“You’re welcome. I was debating about getting it framed, but that doesn’t seem to be your preference.”

Jack looked up, wondering if Ianto had broken into his desk and seen his treasure box.

Ianto laughed and held up his hands. “I have no idea what that look is for. You just don’t have any framed photos of friends or family in your office, or in your bunker.”

“Sorry,” Jack smiled sheepishly. “But you did just admit to breaking into your previous boss’ private files.”

Ianto chuckled. “I won’t violate your privacy, Jack. Unless I think someone is in danger. And even then,” he wished he could make this an unbreakable vow, that Jack could see how much he meant it, “I’ll keep your secrets.”

Once again, Jack believed him.

“Open your present,” he smiled, breaking the moment by handing Ianto his gift.

Ianto unwrapped the present and stared. It was Agatha Christie’s _Come, Tell Me How You Live_. Confirming a suspicion, he found the copyright page, and saw it was a first edition. “Jack, I couldn’t possibly…”

“Yes you could,” Jack interrupted him. “It’s not one of her novels, so it’s not the first edition pricing you’re used to seeing.

“This is one of her non-fiction titles,” Ianto said, paging carefully through the book.

“Yes. It’s sort of a memoir. Have you read it?”

Ianto shook his head. “But I’m looking forward to it, now.”

“I think you’ll like it,” Jack said.

“I know I will,” he smiled. “I love her turn of phrase, and her humor.”

“You would have liked her, I think,” Jack smiled.

Ianto stared at the book for a few moments, not certain how to reply to that. But finally, when he could no longer resist, he looked up. “You met her?”

“She was a sensible, funny, extremely intelligent woman,” Jack smiled.

“Time travel,” Ianto muttered.

“Something like that,” Jack shrugged. He’d met her on the long path, and it was still one of the highlights of those many years.

Ianto ran his hand over the book, once more. “Thank you, Jack.”

“You’re very welcome. I got it that day we went to Swansea.”

“You saw me looking at the _Roger Ackroyd_.”

Jack smiled. “Figured you wouldn’t accept that from me, but it told me you like her work. This is one of my favorites, and it was a bit of a steal.” He smiled. “So I couldn’t resist.”

“I’m glad,” Ianto returned his smile. “I look forward to reading it.”

“So what’s your plan, for the day?”

Ianto finished his coffee and gingerbread and made a face. “Brunch with my sister and her family at noon,” he said morosely.

“Not close?” Jack found himself curious.

Ianto shook his head. “Bit of an understatement. She can be… deeply unpleasant.”

“Then why go?”

Ianto shrugged. “Glutton for punishment?”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

Ianto huffed. “She’s my sister. We try to get on. Really. Well, mostly. Well, I try. I don’t know why. It almost always ends with her justifying our father’s behavior, or repeating it, in some fashion.” He sat back, staring at the fire, again. “Haven’t seen her since last Christmas Eve. Lisa and I drove up. She told Lisa that I like to put on airs and pretend I’m something I’m not. Told her I have secrets.”

It had been a disaster. Rhiannon had stopped just shy of outing him, as a wizard, something she knew he didn’t have permission to do until they were engaged. Lisa never mentioned it, but he knew she wondered about what secrets he might be keeping from her. It had not driven the wedge between them that Rhi had obviously hoped it would, but it had nonetheless taken up residence there, between them.

“Do you?” Jack asked, curious as to how Ianto would answer.

“Don’t we all?” Ianto asked, his lips quirking in that not-quite-a-smile that Jack enjoyed seeing.

“Anything I should know?”

“Nothing I’m allowed to tell,” Ianto said absently. Then he looked at Jack. “I promise that I have no secrets that pose a threat to you, Torchwood, Cardiff, or the planet.”

“Good to know,” Jack looked closely at Ianto. He could tell they were skating along the edge of something, but he could not imagine what that might be. “Someday maybe you’ll explain some things, though.”

Ianto sniffed. “Like what?”

“How someone who is only twenty-three, and of this world, considers himself to be exiled from his home, while living in the city he grew up in.”

“It’s more an emotional exile than a physical one,” Ianto said. “And mostly it’s just me being maudlin.”

Jack wasn’t certain he believed that, entirely. But he let it pass as Ianto spoke again.

“Someday, I’ll tell you everything. But right now I don’t have the wherewithal.”

“But you’re human, right? From Earth?”

Ianto chuckled. “Yes, Jack. I’m a twenty-three year-old human Earthling.” He sighed. “Though I feel about five thousand, three hundred and forty-seven, right now.”

“That’s very specific,” Jack chuckled.

“Maudlin.”

“The word ‘emo’ has sprung to mind,” Jack wasn’t sure if he should joke with Ianto about how emotional his grief had left him, but Ianto’s laugh set his mind at ease.

Ianto’s face went still. “I don’t mean to be.”

“You need to be whatever gets you through this, Ianto. You know what bottling up your grief was doing to you, even though you weren’t doing it on purpose. So you need to just let yourself be emo or maudlin or _whatever_, so you can heal.”

Ianto rubbed his chest. “I still have to remind myself to breathe, sometimes.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, been there. But it gets easier. I promise.”

Ianto gave a small smile. “It’s better than it was. That’s not saying much, but it gives me hope, some days.”

“Is it getting any easier? To hold on?” Jack asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Ianto wanted to lie. He wanted to put Jack’s mind at ease. He didn’t want to worry any of his friends, and he sensed something akin to panic, when Jack saw him at his lowest. Which seemed to be quite often, lately. But he couldn’t do it. He’d promised himself that there would be no more lies, except those of omission, regarding his magic. And he hated that much.

“Not yet,” he said quietly. “But… I guess I’m getting more used to the struggle.”

“You’ll come to me, won’t you?” Jack asked, his eyes pleading. “Before you do… anything?”

“I won’t do anything, Jack.”

Jack considered Ianto’s state, just a week ago. “If I hadn’t been around, when you had that flashback…”

“I would have found Luna,” Ianto assured him. He hoped that was the truth.

“I know you think it’s unfair, that we’re asking for promises,” Jack said. “But can I ask for one more, for Christmas?”

Ianto gave him another half-smile. “What?”

“Will you promise to find _someone_, whether it’s me or one of your other friends, if it gets bad?”

Ianto stared into the fire for a moment before looking back to Jack. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“And will you promise me something, in return?”

“What?” Jack looked cagey, all of a sudden.

“Will you say goodbye, before you leave with him?”

“What?” Now he looked panicky.

Ianto huffed. “I’m not stupid, Jack. I know you’re not from here. And that you’re waiting for him. I just… I just hope you’ll say goodbye, when the right version of him shows up.”

Jack looked at Ianto for a long time, wondering what else the younger man had figured out. “I’ll do my best, Ianto.”

Ianto nodded. As promises went, it kind of sucked. But if it was the best Jack could do, he’d take it. “Thank you.”

They chatted for a while longer, then Jack rose to leave. At the door, Ianto stuck out his hand, feeling awkward. But he wanted to make a gesture, after sharing a truly pleasant evening that he had anticipated being dreadful. “Thank you, Jack. Happy Christmas.”

Jack took his hand, then pulled him into a hug. “Happy Christmas, Ianto,” he smiled when he released the younger man.

***


End file.
